Captor of Dreams
by MorganBonny
Summary: The Captain of the Flying Dutchman has a dream and wakes to a horrifying reality. Written for the 'candles' prompt over on The Broken Compass forum. Ch. 2: A Name for the Devil, written for the prompt 'evil'.
1. Captor of Dreams

Fanfiction: Pirates of the Caribbean, DMC

Rating: K

Disclaimer: Davy Jones and Calypso? Me, s_teal_ them? Actually- *smack* Borrowed! Borrowed without permission. But with every intention of bringing them back to you! All credit to the big-eared mouse.

_A/N: Written for the 'candles' prompt over on the Broken Compass forum. Supposed to be a drabble, but I think I am genetically incapable of writing anything less than 500 words._

Captor of Dreams

The candles sputtered and flickered lower in their dripping sockets. Davy Jones slept on, his shoulders rising and falling in gentle counter-rhythm with the rocking of the ship. The clicking, haunting melody wound down slowly, finally snapping to a stop in the middle of a note, but still he did not wake.

The Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ was dreaming. He knew this the instant he glanced down at his hands; the hands of a man, not a monster, but he had no desire to inform his senses of this.

He stood on the shore, sand shifting beneath his boots and gazed out at the crystal ocean, unsure of what he was waiting for.

Wind ruffled the surface of the sea and he trembled. Ah. That was what he was waiting for. Fuchsia petals swept over the water, brushing across his coat with an unearthly, enchanting fragrance and the sea shivered. He tensed, watching the water waver like a shoal of frightened fish.

And then She came up out of the water. She glided out of the waves like a seal, flowing into her human form, shedding water like old garments, until She stood before him, naked and perfect, navy-green hair splayed across the sky-blue of her shoulders, the hue of the storm in her smiling eyes.

Calypso.

Her name had barely touched his lips, before She had dashed lightly across the sand and her cool, damp fingers were smooth and perfect against his face.

Calypso.

He wrapped his arms around her, her long, silky hair shifting into the shining black of the island girl he had first met her as, her shimmering skin deepening into a rich tan, her eyes dark and mysterious.

He held her close, whispering her name. Calypso...

Davy Jones awoke from this false-dream to the flutter of dying candles and the silence of a wound-down music box.

He sucked in a deep breath, clutching at the ragged scar he had carved across his chest. That shouldn't have hurt. He had no heart left; a curved metal blade had seen to that. So why did he suddenly feel so empty, why did his chest convulse with phantom pains when he spoke the name...Calypso?

He lifted the music box gently in what had once been his right hand and turned it over. The familiar, comforting strains began where they had left off as he wound it tightly and replaced it on the ledge. The candles spluttered in protest and dripped sluggish wax across the keys. He dipped his head wearily, images spinning behind his eyes like the silver wheel in the box, round and round, slumber stealing slowly like the dying pools of waxen flame. His eyes closed and he reached back to hold the captor of his dreams, to reassure himself that these visions were forever vanquished, the chain that damned him to eternal insensate pain, secure, the one safeguard against that kind of anguish, that kind of love, safe.

A small cry of dumbfounded, agonized rage welled up in his throat and his eyes flew open.

The key. The key was gone.


	2. A Name for the Devil

Fanfiction: Pirates of the Caribbean, AWE

Rating: K+

Disclaimer: Davy Jones and Calypso? Me, s_teal_ them? Actually- *smack* Borrowed! Borrowed without permission. But with every intention of bringing them back to you! All credit to the big-eared mouse.

_A/N: More Dalypso, written for this weeks' drabble prompt: 'evil'. Written independently from Chapter One, but I felt they went well together, so I combined._

A Name for the Devil

His name was used to inspire fear and to curse men to oblivion. They spoke it with fear and spite. It was used to soften death's image, as a graveyard, as an oath. Death has always been cruel and men had no reason to think her new master would be any different.

So long before he had turned from his path and become the terror the sailor men thought him, they had cursed their fellows with the name a mother had once admonished a small boy with, set men to rest with the endearment of a saint, shouted for no quarter given with a name that meant 'beloved dove'.

Now, and rightly so, they called him a monster, a devil, an unclean creature of the sea. And so he stood silent in the shadows while the faint and lovely strains of music drifted down to him. Cruel, heartless, cold blooded, beast and bastard he had been named and titled and crowned and he wore the names as a consequence of his deeds, as a lordship, much as a murderer wears bloody gloves. Not a one could pain him, or cause him more than laughter, and yet he was afraid, as he stepped away from the shadows of the wall to see his beloved face to face, that she, who had never called him anything but 'my sweet' and 'my love', might grant him the worst title of all.

Evil.

But when she spoke, it was to call him something far worse than any of these, worse than he had imagined. She called him by his name.

"Davy Jones."

And hearing her voice, her beautiful, beautiful voice, calling this demon-creature of the abyss, this heartless, wretched, soulless evil thing by the same name with which she had once entranced her lover, that she had sang to him as they lay laughing breathless on the shore, bodies, souls and hands entwined, to place that name upon this devil and bind him in his form, to say truly that this wretch was all that remained of the man, Davy Jones, was pain.

* * *

Evil would have been better. Evil could degrade. Memories could only burn.

~^///^~


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